Werewolf
by Myrtle
Summary: A young werewolf tries to escape from the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. Rated PG13 for language. FINISHED!
1. Chapter One, Harriet's POV

AN: This is the first real fic I did, which I started over 2 years ago. I've re-written it, seeing as I hope my writing has improved, and to update it since book 5 contradicted it in places. The original version (which is awful, IMHO!) is still up on here.  
  
DISCLAIMER: As much as I wish I was the richest woman in Britain, I'm afraid I'm not. Nor am I the author of the most wonderful books! I think you know that anyway. If you recognise it from the books, I don't own it.  
  
Werewolf  
Chapter One  
Harriet's Point of View  
  
When I arrived in the building with my parents, who spoke to the woman at the desk, two large men grabbed me and pushed me roughly into a cage. We protested against it loudly, but they wouldn't listen. It wouldn't be the full moon for another two days yet, but of course they didn't see it like that.  
  
The cage was on wheels, and it wobbled as it was rolled into the courtroom. I don't think I had ever really been aware of just how bad the prejudice against werewolves was until that day. During my so-called 'trial', I wasn't even permitted to speak. My parents did their best to defend me, but were, of course, very emotional, and not professional like the others. I don't suppose it had occurred to them either, just how terrible it would be. My dad was really confused, I could tell. Being married to a witch, he had got used to magic, and the magical world, but couldn't understand what the big deal was about lycanthropy was. Wizarding kids are warned about werewolves all their lives - I suppose you have to grow up with that feeling to understand it.  
  
I was so angry at being referred to as 'it' or 'the werewolf' but there was nothing I could do. By the end of it, I was half crying, and the other half furious. It wasn't my fault! I had never wanted to be a werewolf, and I had never wanted to kill. The wolf was responsible for that.  
  
My parents were in tears throughout most of the trial, which could only get worse when the verdict was announced.  
  
"It is the decision of the Committee for the the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, that the werewolf known as Harriet Rivers, hereafter called the Condemned, shall be executed on the 30th of August, two weeks from now. The Condemned is sentenced to execution by beheading, to be carried out by the Committee's appointed executioner, Walden Macnair. In the meantime, the beast should be kept tethered and isolated."  
  
No. I didn't believe it. It didn't happen these days, it couldn't. They didn't have capital punishment in England nowadays, not in civilised countries.. But soon I had to accept that it was true. To them I wasn't human. No, I didn't have even the dignity of being a murderer. At least a murderer is creditted with feelings of guilt and regret. No, to them I was a monster, I had no feelings.  
  
On the way out, I couldn't talk to my parents. I felt that I was different to them. They couldn't understand what I was thinking. They had never had all the bones in their body broken, and twisted into a different form, and they had never killed. And in a couple of weeks time, they wouldn't be the ones who were about to die. I walked in silence once I was released from the cage, and a conversation caught my attention. The receptionist was sitting on her desk, chatting to one of the Committee members from my trial.  
"It's horrible isn't it." she said. "I don't know how Macnair can do it. I mean, they're practically human, and this one's only a young girl."  
  
"I know, it put's me off too sometimes." Said the old man. "But I have to remember to do my job properly. I mean, you'd still have to put down a rabid dog, even if it was a puppy, wouldn't you?" He shrugged. Heartless bastard. How could he say things like that without batting an eyelid? "It doesn't happen very often anyway - there are more adult werewolves, and mostly they don't get caught. The last case like this must have been about twenty-five years ago, and the wolf got off."  
  
"Oh yes. I vaguely remember it." replied the woman. "A very quiet boy wasn't it. wasn't his name Lupin or something like that?"  
  
"That's the one! Remus Lupin. Dumbledore promised that he'd be responsible for him, and let him go to Hogwarts. Dumbledore had a lot of weight at the Ministry in those days. I've heard he's absolutely insane now though. I always thought he was a bit strange, but from what I've read in the papers, it sounds like he's completely lost his marbles."  
  
Remus Lupin. I thought. I was sure that I knew the name, from school or somewhere. I couldn't think who he was though, or how I'd know of him. But maybe he'd be able to help me. Leaning on the filing cabinet, half sobbing, half faking it, I managed to carefully extract this Lupin's files from the drawer labelled 'Werewolves: A to N'  
  
After a long, and almost silent car journey home, I locked myself in my bedroom, where I stuffed a map of Derbsyhire (which I had torn from my parents' road map in the car), and the key to the garden shed, in my pocket. I was prepared to escape that night.  
  
My mum knocked on the door, so I got up and unlocked it. I lay face down on my bed, and muttered "Come in."  
  
"This just arrived." She told me awkwardly, holding out an unfolded piece of parchment. "They know that you're in the house, not 'tethered and isolated'. They say you have to be tied up outside." I stood up slowly. I think I was still in shock. Why else would I act so calmly? I headed towards the stairs.  
  
"Harriet!" she said urgently, as I lef the room. "I'm sorry. I just don't know what we can do. It seems as if they're watching us. They'd find us wherever we went, I'm certain. And with the full moon the day after tomorrow, we have to stay here where it's safe. I'm really sorry. I can't think of anything.  
  
I trudged down the stairs at a snail's pace, then out of the back door, into the small garden. I sat with my back against the high garden wall, and tied the frayed rope around my neck. It was only seven o'clock or thereabouts, but there was no reason to stay up. I wanted to sleep. But that was impossible - I couldn't sleep with that noose around my neck.  
Five hours later I was flying. I had taken my broom out of the shed in the garden, and taken off. At times, I even managed to forget why I was flying so far, alone in the middle of the night. I felt free for the first time in almost a month, with the cold air blowing past me, and the stars and waxing moon clearly visible in the night sky. It was only when I properly noticed that moon that my sense of freedom left me. Unless there was some amazing discovery soon, I knew I would spend my whole life enslaved by it.  
  
So I remembered that I was flying for a reason, and I pulled the crumpled page out of my pocket. I scanned the map, looking out for where Remus Lupin lived. Derby. Ashbourne, Bakewell, Glossop. Ah! I squinted, as I spotted a small village, which was where I knew I was heading. It took me a while to reach the village, and then about half an hour to find Lupin's house. It was barely in the village at all, about half a mile down the road on the way out. At almost four in the morning, I finally braced myself, and knocked loudly on the front door. There was no answer. I knocked again, even louder than before, and in response, heard a thudding noise, like someone falling out of bed. Within a few seconds, the door was opened by a man in his late thirties, wearing a pair of faded pyjamas.  
  
"Yes?" he said sleepily. I wasn't sure exactly what I should say.  
  
"Uh. erm. Are you Remus Lupin?" I asked. He nodded, obviously confused at having a twelve year-old girl who knew his name, arriving on his doorstep so early in the morning. "Sorry, I, um. heard someone mention you at the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, and I thought you might be able to help me."  
  
"You'd better come in and explain." He said, looking concerned. "What were you doing at that place? Do your parents know you're here? And how did you get my address?"  
  
"I took your address from a filing cabinet at the Committee. My parents don't know I'm here, because I ran away. I ran away because of the trial today. I had to. I mean, I don't. I can't. I." I started to cry.  
  
"You're a werewolf then?" asked Lupin calmly. I gave the tiniest nod ever, and flushed bright red. "You don't have to be ashamed of it." He continued. "It's not your fault."  
  
I knew that it wasn't my fault, but that didn't make me feel any better about it. I hadn't chosen to be a monster, because that is what I felt I was at the full moon, but there was no-one else I could blame. I used to blame the wolf who had bitten me, for not taking enough care that they were locked up at the full moon, but now I knew I was no better. I had killed, afterall. Now I only wondered what had happened to my alpha. Had he or she been caught, and killed?  
  
"So when did you.?" He left the sentence hanging, not wanting to say it. But I knew what he meant without the rest. I realised that he was the one person who might actually understand me. Once I had attacked someone, the few people who might have felt some sympathy towards me would have changed their minds. But Remus was a werewolf like me, and he had killed once too. He would surely understand.  
  
"Only last full moon" I said quietly. "I was tied up, but something must have-"  
  
"Yes, I know." He reached out as if to put his arm around me, then seemed to change his mind, and put his hand on the shoulder nearest to him. "And the person you attacked; are they dead, or cursed?"  
  
"Dead." I whispered so softly, I could barely hear it. I was still crying, but more calmly now. I was sure that had I created another werewolf, I would have still been screaming.  
  
"So how did your trial go?" Remus asked, as calmly as possible, though I could hear the fear and concern in his voice.  
  
"It. it was horrible!" My voice squeaked a little as I tried to prevent myself from sobbing.  
  
"So, the verdict.?" Once again, he didn't need to ask any more. I understood perfectly. But I couldn't bring myself to say it. Starting to sob, I slowly drew one finger across my neck.  
  
Remus sat patiently, eyes half closed, and waited for me to calm down a little.  
  
"We cqn go to Dumbledore first thing tomorrow. He'll be able to help you, I promise. I think he'd risk anything to save one of his pupils' lives. What's your name?" I told him, and then he began to scribble a quick note:  
  
Dear Professor Dumbledore,  
I need to speak to you urgently about one of your pupils - Harriet Rivers. We'll come to Hogwarts in the morning. It's 4a.m. now, and she hasn't slept at all, so maybe it won't be until the afternoon.  
  
Remus Lupin  
  
He tied the letter to his owl, and it flew out of the window. I fell asleep on the sofa almost straight away. Just before eleven o'clock, I was woken by the smell of bacon, and a clattering of plates, coming from the kitchen. Remus was making breakfast.  
  
After eating breakfast as quickly as possible, we set off to Hogwarts. We couldn't get directly into Hogwarts by Floo powder, so we used it to travel to Hogsmeade, and then walked across the grounds to the school.  
  
When we reached the main entrance to the castle, Dumbledore was waiting for us. We followed him through the corridors and stairways, until we reached a stone griffin, which stepped aside to let us into the Headmaster's office. I had only been in there once before, on my second day at Hogwarts, and I was fascinated by all the magical objects. But I had no time to stop and look at them.  
  
"What's all this about?" Dumbledore asked, glancing from me to Remus. Remus nodded at me, and so I spoke first.  
  
"You know how I'm a. a werewolf, Professor? Well, I." I looked down at my feet. "I killed someone last month. I was tied up in the garden at home, but I smelled someone near by, and I escaped, and -" Dumbledore gestured for me to stop.  
  
"I know you weren't to blame." He said gently. "But were you caught?"  
  
"Yes. I -"  
  
"And the Ministry never contacted me about it! One of my pupils! Carry on, Harriet:"  
  
"It was my trial yesterday at the Committee." I turned away from him and Remus. "Execution at the end of the month. That's why I ran away, Professor, I'm scared." "Execution!" he exclaimed. "You?! Stay here; I shall have to go to London immediately. I had forgotten how cruel and barbaric they still were these days. Really! This is the last thing I need!"  
  
"Goodbye." He added, as he walked out of the room. Lupin and I sat in tense silence, until his return. He was only gone for 45 minutes, but I didn't know whether that was a good sign, or bad.  
  
He opened the door. I sat forwards on my chair, staring at him impatiantly, waiting for him to tell me I was free now. Why didn't he say anything?  
  
"Well?" I demanded. "What did they say?" He finally looked up.  
  
"I'm sorry Harriet." He mumbled. "There was nothing I could do. The Minister of Magic is completely on their side. The Minister denies that Voldemort is back, and so disagrees with me about everything - even this. He wasn't too pleased a couple of years ago when I employed Remus, either. I have been ordered to hand you over to the Committee."  
  
"And, are you going to?" I asked, what was happening failing to sink in. "What will happen if you don't?"  
  
"Of course I won't!" He said, astounded that I could even suggest such a thing. "But if we stay here, we're bound to get caught. In which case I could be arrested, and you'd be.. Anyway, we've got to go and hide somewhere for the time being. Now where did I leave that invisibility cloak?" At this point somebody started banging on the door, and shouting  
  
"Open up! This is the Ministry of Magic." Then Cornelius Fudge's voice began to mutter.  
  
"Cockroach Cluster. Oh. it must have been changed. Er. Chocolate Frog, Fizzing Whizzbee, Sugar Quill. Yes!" he exclaimed as the door swung open. The Minister of Magic walked in, flanked by two dementors, and followed by the two men with the cage from my trial. They pushed me into the cage again, and waited as Fudge and the dementors dragged Dumbledore out of the room. Remus was left standing alone in the corner of the room, horrified. As the dementors passed me, I heard the judge's voice echoing in my head again.  
  
Sentenced to execution by beheading. execution by beheading. beheading. beheading. beheading.  
  
I must have fainted, because the next thing I knew, I was still in the cage, but the cage was in a completely different place - at the back of a courtroom. As I stood up, the people standing around me moved away, looking frightened. In the centre of the room was Dumbledore, with his arms chained to the arms of his chair. The trial had obviously already started, as a short and unpleasant looking woman was speaking.  
  
"You have also failed to comply with the Ministry of Magic's demand that you hand over the werewolf, in an attempt to prevent the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures from carrying out the sentence passed on the 16th of this month. How do you plead to these charges?"  
  
"Guilty." Dumbledore replied. "I did indeed try to save an innocent girl from execution. I fear that I may have failed her." He looked directly at me with his piercing eyes. "I'm sorry Harriet. Just don't give up yet." While he was talking, the toad-like interrogator had been growing redder and redder, until finally she yelled  
  
"Innocent girl?! Harriet Rivers is a werewolf! A filthy monstrous half-breed, and a murderer!"  
  
"NO!" I screamed. "I am not a murderer! I couldn't help it. It was not my fault! You can't understand - you aren't a werewolf."  
  
The woman looked startled, as if she hadn't thought I had the ability to speak, but then she gave an irritating little cough, and continued. "Could someone please keep that animal under control back there?"  
  
I finally, completely lost my temper. "I AM NOT A FUCKING ANIMAL!" I screamed. Dumbledore tried to get out of his chair, but the chains tightened, and so he failed dismally.  
  
"Don't make it any worse for yourself, Harriet." He advised.  
  
"It can't bloody well get any worse." I snapped back. They were going to kill me anyway, so I might as well stick up for myself. I was ready to shout back, and knew I could keep it up for a while, but the woman who I later found out was Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, pointed her wand at me, and shouted  
  
"Silencio!" and unable to protest further, I was dragged out. I was taken to the Committee again, where the Chairman had a rather nastly smile on his face.  
  
"It has been decided to - " he began, before he was suddenly interrupted.  
  
"You can't to this!" shouted Remus Lupin.  
  
"I think I can." Said the head of the Committee, calmly. "In fact, it would be breaking the law to let it go. Have him thrown out."  
  
My last lifeline gone.  
  
"In consideration of recent events, it has been decided to move forwards the execution of the werewolf, Harriet Rivers, to 9 pm tonight, the 18th of August."  
  
No! How was I going to plan my escape, and carry it out in only four hours? It was probably impossible anyway. Before then I had been determined to escape, demanding some kind of a miracle, but now I despaired. I screamed and sobbed until my throat was so dry and sore that I could barely make a sound. I just wanted to curl up and die on the floor of the cage. Why prolong life by four miserable hours?  
  
Those few hours felt like a lifetime. I didn't want nine o'clock to come, but I couldn't stand waiting like this. I found my eyes drawn to the clock on the wall, watching my last hours, minutes and seconds ticking away.  
  
At ten to nine I began to hyperventilate, tears drenching the neck of my already damp t-shirt. Surely they would be coming for me soon.  
  
It was virtually nine o'clock when they took me, still in the cage, into a room I hadn't seen before. There were a few rows of wooden benches, upon which members of the Committee were seated, all facing a low platform at the front. On the platform stood a tall man, with a thick black moustache, running his finger along the blade of an axe. So this was it.  
  
"Oh shit." I mutterred. "Shit, shit, shit!" I was getting closer. The executioner was only a couple of metres away, and the axe. It was definitely silver, and by the looks of it, not that sharp either. Ouch! It was the pain that I was most afraid of. Of course I didn't want to die, but the truth of it is, that I knew I wouldn't give a damn about that once I was dead, because I wouldn't be around to care about it. But a blunt silver axe was the most awful thing I could imagine.  
  
The cage door was opened, and I was lead up the two steps onto the platform, and over to the centre of it. There was a bloodstained wooded block down on the floor near Macnair's feet. I struggled, trying to get away, though I had no idea how I'd get out of the building, if they did loosen their grip for a second. I pulled backwards, but was pushed forwards, onto my knees. I was held down, enormous pressure on my shoulders, and I couldn't get up. My long hair fell forwards, making a black curtain in front of my eyes. I screwed up my eyes, pressed my fingers into the planks of the floor, and clenched my teeth, bracing myself. I knew it must be coming soon.  
  
I was trembling anyway, when a familiar shaking came over me. I could hardly believe that I had forgotten. I felt a prickling all over my body, as thick hair grew. I jerked up from the floor, growling, now much stronger than before.  
  
I was free.  
I wanted to kill. I had tasted blood last month, and now the wolf wanted more.  
No. I didn't want to do that, I was free.  
Kill  
Free  
Yes. Free to kill.  
  
That night, for the first time in my life, I was actually glad of what I was - a werewolf. 


	2. Chapter Two, Remus' POV

AN: This is the first real fic I did, which I started over 2 years ago. I've re-written it, seeing as I hope my writing has improved, and to update it since book 5 contradicted it in places. The original version (which is awful, IMHO!) is still up on here.  
  
DISCLAIMER: As much as I wish I was the richest woman in Britain, I'm afraid I'm not. Nor am I the author of the most wonderful books! I think you know that anyway. If you recognise it from the books, I don't own it.  
  
Werewolf  
Chapter Two  
Remus' Point of View  
  
I knew what would happen to her after I was sent out. I had been to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, in a last attempt to change their minds, but they had already decided. It was only what I had expected, but when they threw me out, I felt terrible, knowing what I was leaving her to face.  
  
I soon realised, in horror, that it was the full moon. Why does everything bad always happen at the same time? I had to find somewhere to go, away from people. I decided to spend the night in a room at the Leaky Cauldron. I managed to fit all of the furniture (there wasn't much of it) into the bathroom, which I locked, except the bed. I placed silencing charms on the door, window, and all over the walls. Hopefully I would be able to repair all the damage in the morning.  
  
Finally it was time. As always, I remembered very little, and I'm glad of it. After a lifetime of this, it still frightens me when I see the state of my room, and my self-inflicted bites and scratches. All I remember is seeing fur growing on my arms, before Remus Lupin disappeared, and the wolf took control.  
  
In the morning, I slowly walked down the stairs, feeling terrible. I was completely exhausted, and in pain from the particularly deep bites and scratches on my arms. It had been a bad one. I went to the counter to pay for my room, and realised straight away that there was something wrong. Tom, the barman and owner of the Cauldron, wouldn't speak to me, or even meet my eye. He just wrote out the bill, and gave it to me. I paid him in Galleons and Knuts, then left. The silencing charm obviosuly hadn't been completely successful. Well, I couldn't be bothered to deal with other people's prejudices that morning, with my grief and anger about Harriet, and it being the day after the full moon.  
  
Half of me wanted to return to the Committee, to find out whether they had killed Harriet yet, but I was afraid. I had terrible mental images of opening the door, to be suddenly faced with her headless body. But I needed to know what had happened.  
  
"Excuse me?" I asked the receptionist, in my politest 'I'm-such-a- nice-man-I-couldn't-possibly-be-a-werewolf' tones. "Did you see a young girl here last night?" She shook her head. "Not a twelve year old, with long black hair? She's called Harriet."  
  
"Oh. the werewolf!" she replied, in gossipy tones "Yes, I saw her. Quite scary really, it was. The werewolf was supposed to be executed last night, see, but she escaped. It was the full moon last night you know. Macnair and a couple of the others were hurt, but none bitten, thank goodness. Now why did you want to know?" I heard her ask, as I rushed out of the door. Harriet had escaped!  
  
I saw some scratches on the doorframe, which I instantly recognised as having been made by a werewolf. Using a fairly simple charm, I found out which direction Harriet had gone in, and started looking. I apparated a little way at a time, stopping to check that I was still heading in the right direction. Wizarding London was a lot smaller than muggle London, so it didn't take long to get out of the city. Eventually I found Harriet, trying to wash the blood off of her hands.  
  
"Harriet." I said quietly, and she looked up. "You're alive! I can't believe you escaped like that!" She looked away from me, and continued trying to remove dried blood out of her fingernails.  
  
"I felt glad last night, at having this power and strength. How could I? How could I feel happy because I could kill?" she asked. I didn't think she expected an answer. "Please tell me I didn't kill anyone. Not another."  
  
"As far as I know, no you didn't. Macnair and a couple of others at the Committee were injured, but not bitten."  
  
"Well they deserve it!" she snapped, then looked horrified at herself. "To be hurt, I mean." She added. "Not to be bitten."  
  
I decided that it would be a good idea to go to 12 Grimmauld Place, and see Sirius. If Dumbledore had got away, then that was bound to be one of the first places he'd go to. And God knows, Sirius needed the company,  
  
"I think we ought to go to my friend's house." I told her. "He has plenty of spare room where we can stay, if necessary." I paused, then decided I should explain to her, else she would panic when she first saw him. "Erm. my friend is Sirius Black." She raised her eyebrows questioningly. "Yes, the escaped mass-murderer. I know it's hard to believe, but he didn't do it. He's innocent." I expected questions and confrontation about this, but Harriet accepted it, just like that. I suppose after the way the Ministry have treated her, she can't trust them to ever get anything right.  
  
I thought it would be safe enough to use public transport. Afterall, it was the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures we were hiding from, not one of the major departments. And she had only escaped last night, so the news probably wouldn't have got round yet. I went to the side of the nearest road, and held out my left hand. Immediately the Knight Bus appeared, purple and gleaming.  
  
"Welcome to the Knight Bus, transport for any stranded witch or wizard, where would you like to go?" reeled off the conductor, as we stepped aboard.  
  
"Grimmald Place, London, please." I said quietly. I didn't want to attract any attention to Harriet or myself, whatsoever. I had been doing it for years. Of course, in the end, all my plans had never worked out too well.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 26 years previously * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Er.Remus, we've been, ah. wondering, where you keep disappearing too each month."  
  
"I'm sure it isn't every month." I said defensively. "Last month I was ill - I told you. And whenever I was last off before, it was my Great- Aunt's funeral." I hated having to make these excuses, and lie to my friends, but I didn't see what other alternative there was. They would see me as a monster, and hate me, if I told them the truth. But I felt like I was betraying them by not telling them my only secret.  
  
"Right." said James, "It's just that we noticed that you're always away at the same time of the month."  
  
" - the full moon." Interjected Sirius.  
  
"And so we just wanted to ask you. Peter-you can say it."  
  
"No!" protested Peter. "It was all your idea." James and Peter glared at each other.  
  
"OK. OK. areyouawerewolfRemus?" gabbled Sirius.  
  
"What?" I asked, playing for time.  
  
"Are. You. A. Werewolf. Remus?" repeated James. I looked down at my feet, and said nothing at all. "It was a crazy idea - sorry! I hope we didn't offend you," he apologised quickly, though I could hear in his tone that he was now certain I was a werewolf.  
  
"No. No, you're right." I admitted, bracing myself for some kind of a response. "I have been a werewolf for six years." I finally forced myself to look up, to see (to my great surprise) that Sirius and James had identical grins on their faces. "Didn't you hear me?" I asked. "Why are you smiling? I said you're right! I'm a werewolf."  
  
"Yeah, I know." Said Sirius. "What kind of friends do you think we are? It doesn't matter, Remus!"  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
When the Knight Bus stopped in Grimmauld Place, I said goodbye to Stan and Ernie, and climbed off the bus. I had to explain to Harriet that Sirius' house was magically protected, and that I could see it, although to her it looked as if there was nothing there.  
  
I knocked on the silver doorknocker carefully with my wand, making sure I didn't touch the silver. The door opened, and I was met by my old friend Sirius.  
  
"Great to see you Moony! This house is really doing my head in, especially that damned elf!" Kreacher, Sirius' unwanted houself, walked past at that moment, muttering:  
  
"It's the werewolf again. my mistress would have never."  
  
"Oh, who's this?" asked Padfoot, noticing Harriet, who was very bewildered at being inside a house she couldn't see.  
  
"My name is Harriet." She replied. "Mr Lupin is helping me hide. And I know who you are - you're Sirius Black, the escaped murderer."  
  
"Yeah, well, it's a long story, but I promise not to kill you!" he grinned. I glared at him in warning. "Er... did you just say you were in hiding too?" He added on a more serious note.  
  
"Padfoot!" I interrupted. "I'll tell you everything soon. Is there anywhere Harriet can go while we talk? Are Harry and the Weasley's here?"  
  
"Yeah, Arthur's at work, and Molly's gone shopping, but all of the kids are here. Do you want to go and talk to them for a bit Harriet?" Harriet just shrugged.  
  
"I'll show her up." I said, realising that she wouldn't be able to get up stairs that were invisible to her. I opened the door to the room I could hear their voices coming from, and gently nudged Harriet through it. 


	3. Chapter Three, Harry's POV

Werewolf  
Chapter Three  
Harry's POV  
  
I was just sitting around in one of the many rooms on the first floor at Grimmauld Place, talking to Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred and George, when this girl walked in. I thought I recognised her, and then realised that she was one of the younger girls in Ravenclaw.  
  
"Hello." I said nervously.  
  
"Who the hell are you?" asked Ron, blunt and to the point as always.  
  
"My name is Harriet." She replied. "I've come here with Remus."  
  
"Lupin's here?" asked Fred. "Cool! We haven't seen him for days." I knew the twins were trying to find out more about the Order from him, since they'd completely given up on their parents.  
  
"Why are you with Lupin?" queried Hermione. "Are you related or something?" Somehow I couldn't imagine her being his daughter. He would surely have mentioned a wife, even if she was dead, besides which, this girl looked nothing like him. She had long black hair, grey-blue eyes, and she wore glasses.  
  
"No. We aren't related. He's. helping me to hide." I could see that she wasn't going to say anything apart from answering the questions. So I decided I'd just have to ask her some more.  
  
"Hide?" I asked. "Who are you hiding from?" The others all seemed interested too. They were staring at her, waiting for her to answer. She just stared at the floor.  
  
"The Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures." She mumbled, awkwardly.  
  
"Huh?" grunted Ron. "They deal with dangerous magical creatures, so what would they want with a girl like you?"  
  
"Honestly Ron!" Hermione cut in. "You really are thicker than I thought! It's obvious isn't it Harry?" I just shrugged, seeing as I had no idea what she was on about either. The difference between Ron and me was that I'd perfected the art of not voicing my ignorance around Hermione. Ginny looked pretty confused as well.  
  
"Do I have to spell it out?" sighed Hermione. "Really!"  
  
"No." said Harriet, in a low voice. "I'll tell them - I'm a werewolf." Suddenly it all made sense. She was with Lupin, and he's a werewolf.  
  
"Oh!" gasped Ginny. "And the Committee for the." she gasped again, realising the same thing I had just worked out. "the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, they want to. Oh God, that's horrible! Why?"  
  
"I am not in control of what I do at the full moon. I escaped from my home and killed a man." She said it so calmly, so matter-of-factly, I couldn't understand it. I had never killed anyone, and I didn't want to. I had seen someone die, and that was bad enough. Quite honestly, I was terrified at the thought of one day having to kill.  
  
"So, d'you think they're going to be looking for you? I mean, surely it could be any werewolf that did it, as far as they know?" said Ron.  
  
"I was caught that morning by the Werewolf Capture Unit. They know it was me alright! They took me back to my family until my trial." I knew what the trial would be like, having heard about it from Hagrid. The Committee didn't care who was to blame, so long as they had an excuse to cut another animal's head off. Luckily we had managed to rescue Buckbeak the hippogriff, who was in fact in the house at the time, head still attatched. I shivered at the thought - was that what they wanted to do to Harriet?"  
  
"So they found you guilty then? I don't think the Committee ever lets any animals off. Not calling you an animal of course, but you know what I mean." Said Hermione.  
  
"Yes. They were going to. to kill me last night. If it hadn't been the full moon last night, then I wouldn't be here. I should have been dead by now." she sounded as if she hadn't really grasped what was going on, she was so confused.  
  
People felt sorry for me, because of my parents being murdered when I was a baby, and my confrontations with Voldemort. And I would agree that my life was far from ideal. But I really thought that my problems were nothing compared to Harriet's. I had been certain a couple of times before that I was about to die, but only for a short while. It must be so much worse to know that in a week, or a day or however long they tell you, you'll be dead, and you can't do anything about it. Not to mention all the prejudice I had noticed about werewolves, and the monthly transformations, which Remus had said were terribly painful. Even Remus who seemed fairly calm and accepting about his condition, rarely mentioned it, even when he was with close friends.  
  
I snapped back to the real world, where Harriet was telling us about what had happened since her trial. "Dumbledore was arrested. I was at his trial for a while, but they took me out part way through, so I don't know whether he was sentenced to anything-"  
  
"What?" I shouted. "You mean Dumbledore could be in Azkaban?"  
  
Coincidencially, it was at that moment that a clunking sound was heard, from downstairs. It was a noise that all of us, except Harriet, recognised - the front door. A familiar voice drifted up the stairs.  
  
"I'm sorry I couldn't come and explain about at all this sooner. I was somewhat delayed." 


	4. Chapter Four, Harriet's POV

AN: Thanks for the reviews, everyone. Scimitar Nyx: Very observant, of you! However, the start of this fic starts at the beginning of book 5, chronologically. You probably worked that out when you read the 3rd chapter, seeing as Sirius is there! PS: My book only goes up to P766 - I'm English.  
  
Werewolf  
Chapter Four  
Harriet's Point of View  
  
Great. There I was, stuck in a lonely tower with nobody to talk to, and nothing to do. Fair enough, I was alive, but it was a crap kind of life, not even being able to look out of the window at daytime in case I was seen. I knew it was for my own good, and of course I didn't want to be caught, but you'd have thought they'd let me have some visitors. Maybe Harry Potter or some of his friends who I'd spoken to a couple of months before would, if they knew I was here. Certainly not Danielle. She had been my best friend in my first year, but I was sure she would hate me now.  
  
There had been an article about me in the Daily Prophet, which she would surely have seen. And even if she hadn't, then someone would have done. It must have been all around the school by then I thought. She would know what I was, and hate me for it. As a pureblood witch, she would have been brought up with warnings against werewolves, and a built-in-fear of 'Dark Creatures' like myself.  
  
Perhaps I should have told her myself. If I had explained it to her, then maybe she would have been able to understand. But as it was the Prophet had portrayed me as a dangerous monster. I had read it, and it was just as bad as I could have imagined.  
  
Below a photograph of me, it said  
  
'MURDEROUS BEAST ESCAPES! Yesterday night, a werewolf escaped from the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. At least three people are known to have been injured in the escape.  
  
Harriet Rivers, a twelve year old werewolf was apprehended after having killed a thirty-two year old muggle man in her home town of Stafford. It appears that the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures are incapable of keeping hold of beasts for long enough to carry out their sentences. Last year a hippogriff escaped at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, directly before it's execution was due to take place. Rumour has it that the Hogwarts Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore had something to do with the escape.  
  
If you see the werewold, it is advisable not to approach it, but to report it to the Committee, or the Werewolf Capture Unit immediately, in order to ensure it is dealt with before it kills any more innocent people. A one- hundred Galleon reward has been offered, for any information resulting in the werewolf's capture.'  
  
I burned the article without even reading the whole thing. I tried to convince myself that it simply wasn't worth wasting my time with. It didn't matter. Yet I spent all my time thinking about it for the next few days. I had a few visitors, all teachers except for Remus, but not very often. When I did have visitors, I could rarely find anything to say to them, so their visits were almost as bad as when I was alone.  
  
I had an owl, but I didn't think to use it for months. Dumbledore told me that he had informed my parents that I was safe. It was early November, and I was watching the fireworks from my window, careful that no- one could see me. It suddenly occurred to me that I could write to Danielle. Perhaps it would make her understand, and the worst that could happen would be just to get and angry hate-filled letter in return. Surely even that would be better than not knowing. There was no danger of being caught in my idea.  
  
So I wrapped up a parcel of something I felt I really needed to lend her, and fixed a note to it.  
  
Tuesday 5th November 1995 Dear Danielle,  
I felt that I should let you know that I'm OK, though I can't tell you where I am. I was wondering whether you are still my friend or not, after everything that has happened since I last saw you. Even if you are not, could you please read this book, and return it to me. Yours sincerely  
Harriet Rivers  
  
I thought it was probably a bit too formal, but it was the best I could think of at the time. I tied the letter and parcel to my owl, then watched it fly out of the window.  
  
Immediately I wished I hadn't sent it. She'd probably tear my letter and book into shreds. Why on earth would she trust a werewolf? I wasn't so bothered about getting the book back, I'd read it so many times that I practically knew the whole thing off by heart. But the main thing was that if she read it, I might have a chance. You never know. 


	5. Chapter Five, Danielle's POV

When I first found out that Harriet was a werewolf, I could hardly believe it. Had I seriously shared a dorm with a werewolf for a whole year, without knowing? She ihad/i disappeared a lot, and thinking about it, it was about once a month. But she had all the answers whenever I asked. She had gone to the hospital wing with a migraine, or she had to go home because her mum was ill. I never even noticed that it was the full moon every time.  
  
I didn't think about what I should do about it. I didn't know whether I should stay friends with her (or with 'it'? I was never sure which one was right). I didn't want her (it?) to be executed though. It just didn't seem right. I never really considered our friendship, because quite simply, she wasn't there for me to be friends, or not friends with. I told myself that it had nothing to do with me. But then the letter arrived.  
  
I recognised her owl first of all, as it tapped on the dormitory window that evening. I had gone up to bed early, because I had nothing to do downstairs. My only real friend in the first year had been Harriet, and after the events of the summer, most of the other Ravenclaw girls tended to avoid me. It was as if they thought that something was wrong with me, just because I'd been friends with a werewolf - as if lycanthropy was contagious. Those who didn't seem to overly dislike me, just left me alone,  
  
Anyway, I opened the window, letting in a strong smell of woodsmoke, along with the owl. I removed the parcel and letter that the owl was carrying, then closed the window. The handwriting on the envelope was definitely hers. I hesitated, but then decided to open the letter.  
  
Tuesday 5th November 1995 Dear Danielle,  
I felt that I should let you know that I'm OK, though I can't tell you where I am. I was wondering whether you are still my friend or not, after everything that has happened since I last saw you. Even if you are not, could you please read this book, and return it to me. Yours sincerely  
Harriet Rivers  
  
Her handwriting was sort of spikier and shakier than I remembered it, as if her hand had been shaking when she wrote it. Come to think of it, my hand was trembling just reading it. Stupid me, I mentally told myself off. Why was I scared of reading a letter, just because it was written by a werewolf?  
  
Well, at least I knew now that the parcel was a book, and she wanted it back, so it couldn't be anything dangerous. Slowly I unwrapped it, peeling the spelloape off carefully, without tearing the paper at all. Inside the packageI found a very 'well-read' looking (read: scrappy) book. The faded print on the cover read 'Hairy Snout, Human Heart'. I glanced at the blurb, and then decided to give it a try. I loved reading, and even if the book wasn't that great, it would be something to pass the time.  
  
Two hours later I was still reading it. Everyone else had come up to the girls dormitory, and I could hear giggling and whispers around the room. I drew the royal blue velvet hangings on my four-poster bed, and ignored them. The book was just brilliant. I had nearly finished, and now I understood why Harriet had chosen to send that particular book to me. If that was what life was really like for werewolves, then I felt really sorry for her, and not just because of the whole execution thing. I felt ashamed that witches and wizards like myself could treat werewolves like that. I was especially ashamed that I had been just as bad. I hadn't wanted anything to do with a werewolf.  
  
I flipped over the last page - THE END.  
  
It really was a wonderful book. Not just the way the story had made me think, but the writing itself. It was so detailed, descriptive, real. I wondered who had written it. Whoever it was deserved to be a famous author. I looked on the cover, but all it said was the title, there was no author's name. I looked on the back cover, and on the inside, but there was no name - the author was annonymous. I realised that it was a true story, that would explain why he wanted to keep his identity secret.  
  
I wondered if this annonymous author had written anything else, but there was no way of telling. I wished I had read the book earlier, but realised that a book written by a werewolf wouldn't be well known or popular. I possibly wouldn't have read it if I'd known. I had only ever thought of werewolves as animals, not of the problems they faced in their everyday human lives. No wonder Harriet hadn't told anybody.  
  
I decided to reply to Harriet's letter then. I climbed out of bed in the dark, and took a piece of parchment and a quill out of the chest of drawers, then hopped back in.  
  
iDear Harriet,/i I wrote,  
iThanks for the book, I enjoyed it a lot/i- No, that was no good. 'I enjoyed it a lot'. That sounded as if the book had meant nothing at all. I tore off the top of the parchment, and started again.  
  
iDear Harriet,  
I read the book you lent me, and I can see why you sent it to me. I'm really pleased you're safe, and I wanted to let you know that I definitely am still your friend. I can understand why you thought I might not be, but it doesn't matter.  
Missing you loads,  
Danielle. /i  
  
I sent the letter, along with the book, and just hoped that the letter would be OK. The next day I received Harriet's reply.  
  
iDanielle,  
Thanks for getting my book back so quickly. I'd forgotten what a fast reader you are! It took me days to read the first time, though admittedly I was only seven at the time.  
It's very lonelt here. There are a couple of people who visit me now and then, but hardly ever.  
Harriet. /i  
  
Only seven when she read it? Surely that meant she had been seven, or maybe even younger, when she was bitten! I had imagined how it must have been for her last year, at Hogwarts, but not as a young child. How on Earth did she cope? I don't think I could have done that - covering up the same horrible secret for nearly six years.  
  
We kept writing to each other for months. Neither of us ever mentioned her being a werewolf, though I thought about it all the time, imagining myself in her place. I felt so sorry for her, which was partly why I didn't talk about what had happened. I knew that if I did, it would be obvious that I well, ipitied/i her, and she wouldn't want to know that. Afterall, she was exactly the same as she had always been. It was me that had changed, because I knew.  
  
It didn't occur to me for some time to ask where she was, and I was really surprised at her answer. She was right there - at Hogwarts!  
  
iYou're actually here? Whereabouts are you staying exactly? I mean, why haven't I seen you. I don't understand how you can stay hidden in a school with about a thousand students! /i I replied.  
  
iDanielle,  
I'm in the staff tower actually. They have an extra room spare, seeing as the Care of Magical Creatures teacher lives in the Gamekeeper's hut. So have that room, and a little cellar where I go at the full moon sometimes. That's all - can't go outside.  
If you want, I'll ask if you can come and visit me here, but I don't know. I haven't told anyone that I've been writing to you, and I don't know if they'd approve.  
I'll try to persuade them!  
Harriet. /i  
  
She had crossed out 'at the full moon', but I could still read it. That was the only letter where she had mentioned anything to do with being a werewolf, and she crossed it out. In a way, I was relieved. I didn't want to bring that subject up, but I did feel somewhat irritated that after writing to me for six months, she still didn't seem to trust me enough to even mention it in passing.  
  
Anyway, I hoped she'd be able to arrange for me to go and visit her. Maybe it would be different talking to her face to face, something I hadn't done for ten months. So I waited in anticipation for Harriet's next letter.  
  
In the meantime, something started to go badly wrong. I had been keeping Harriet's letters in the second drawer of my bedside table, with my books, and then one night, I was woken up to find Orla Quirke rummaging through the drawer.  
  
"What're you doing?" I whispered sharply.  
  
"Oh! Sorry," she muttered. "I wanted to borrow your copy of 'The Standard Book of Spells' I spilled ink all over the page we need for last week's Charms homework, and it's due in tomorrow morning. You don't mind me borrowing yours do you?"  
  
"No, no. not at all." I replied tensely. Orla was not the kind of person that anyone argued with. I didn't like her particularly, even then, but I wasn't going to disagree, especially at that time of night.  
  
Eventually I ignored the scratching sound of her quill on parchment, and managed to get to sleep. I thought that everything was OK afterall. But Orla was more cunning that I had imagined.  
  
"Danielle?" She asked casually on the way down to breakfast. "Have you heard from iHarriet/i lately?"  
  
"What?!" I exclaimed. She interrupted me-  
  
"You know, it could be dangerous, keeping in contact with a werewolf. It's already killed one person - how do you know you won't be the next victim?"  
  
I should have denied it completely; told her I hadn't heard from Harriet since July, but she had really wound me up. "Harriet is not an 'it'!" I snapped angrily. "You knew her last year! How can you talk about her like that?" Hypocritical of me, I know, when in the Autumn I had been unable to decide whether to call her she, or 'it'.  
  
"The Daily Prophet didn't call it human." Orla smiled.  
  
"The Daily Prophet, writes a lot of shit." I said.  
  
"But they did say that the Werewolf Capture Unit are offering a 100 Galleon reward to anyone who can tell them where the werewolf is."  
  
"You wouldn't tell them!" I gasped. "Do you even know what they'd do to her?" Harriet hadn't told me how they wanted to 'dispose' of this 'dangerous creature' of course, but I'd done a bit of extra-curricular research on werewolves, and found out. How disgusting. I couldn't believe it at first, and I didn't want to know that it had nearly happened to Harriet. Orla, on the other hand seemed very relaced about it.  
  
"Oh, but does that really matter?" she laughed. "They do the same to hippogriffs and manticores, so what's the difference?"  
  
"Harriet is a person!" I exploded. "If anyone tried to. to do that to you, someone would stop it! Just because she got bitten, it doesn't make her an animal. Only once a month. Don't you get it?"  
  
Orla just stood their cooly, like an ice-cube in the middle of my explosion, except she wasn't melting.  
  
"PLEASE don't tell them!" I was begging her now. "If you help them, that makes you a murderer."  
  
And Orla just shrugged. "I'll think about it." and walked away. I waited until she had turned the corner before I completely broke down, and sank to the floor, sobbing. I knew Orla loved having this power.  
  
I skipped my breakfast, and ran back up to the dorm, to write and tell Harriet what had happened.  
  
iI'm so sorry. Orla saw your letters, and she's threatening to tell. Be really careful, and I'll try to persuade her not to. It was my fault, I should have destroyed all the letters. I'm really, really sorry, I just hope it will be OK.  
  
Danielle/i 


	6. Chapter Six, Harriet's POV

Werewolf  
Chapter Six  
Harriet's Point of View  
  
When I received Danielle's letter, telling me that Orla Quirke had found out I was here, I was very worried, but I had to put it out of my mind, because I had my own problems - namely, the lunar cycle. It was the full moon that night. When classes finished for lunch, Professor Snape came to bring the Wolfsbane potion to me as usual. He rarely said anything to me, and that afternoon was no exception. I could tell from his expression that he was in a particularly bad mood, although he had a faint twisted smile on his face. He placed the goblet on the table, then swept out of the room before I had a chance to tell him about the danger than Danielle's letter had just warned me of. Not that I expected him to be much help, anyway.  
  
I knew that I should drink the steaming potion straight away, so I walked over and reached out to pick up the goblet. If I hadn't already been worried, I would probably have realised before my hand even made contact with the goblet. As it was, I was surprised when I touched it, and suddenly had to withdraw my hand from the burning pain in my fingers. Silver. I called Snape every name I could think of, seeing as he wasn't there to hear it. No wonder he had been smiling like that. This was his idea of a joke. How funny - give the werewolf it's Wolfsbane potion in a silver goblet - I don't think so.  
  
So what was I supposed to do now? If I'd had all my school stuff with me, I could have used my protective gloves, but they were at home. I was locked in at all times, so I couldn't go and tell anyone either. So I tried to wrap my hands in my bedsheet, and pick up the goblet, but the sheet was too thin, and I my hands still blistered. I didn't know how I was going to drink it, but I knew I had to while it was still warm. I needed that potion, to feel safe and in control.  
  
In the end I resorted to lapping the potion out of the goblet, using my tongue like a dog would. It tasted even worse than usual, because I couldn't gulp it down in one quick swallow. I tasted every drop of the disgusting thing. As I was drinking it, Professor Snape came in again.  
  
"I've come to collect the goblet, werewolf." He said. "Oh dear, drinking it like a dog are you. or should I say like a wolf?"  
  
"My name is Harriet, professor, not werewolf." I said, choosing to ignore his second comment for the time being.  
  
"It makes no difference to me what they call you." Sneered Snape. "Dumbledore made up his mind far too long ago that werewolves were 'human' and nothing to be afraid of. I can't change his mind now, but to me you're just an animal, and would be much better destroyed. The only thing stopping me from handing you over to the Committee myself is that I won't break Dumbledore's trust, and I won't lose my job."  
  
"Well, I certainly hope you will when I tell Dumbledore about what you have said and done to me today." I retorted. I had completely had enough of Snape by that point. I was stressed anyway, after Danielle's nmews, and suffering from whatever the lycanthropic version of PMT is. I was fed up of living in that stupid tower room, where I had lived for literally months. It was then that I decided I was getting out of Hogwarts, and I was going to do something.  
  
As soon as Snape left the room, I picked up a magazine from the floor. It was 'Teenage Witch Weekly'. Not something I'd actually buy, personally, but Danielle knew how bored I was, and so she had sent it to me. Besides, it was actually going to be useful. I opened it to page 27, which was full of magical hair-colouring instructions. Under normal circumstances, I would never dye my hair, especially not blonde, but I needed a disguise.  
  
"Eurgh!" I shuddered, looking in the mirror. Bleached hair did tend to look a bit on the yellow side, and even using magic, this was a perfect example. But the good thing was, I didn't look at all like myself, which wasthe idea, of course. I took off my glasses as well. I intended to go back to London, to try and change the Ministry's minds, so that I would be able to live a normal life.  
  
Before leaving, I carefully performed the complicated Disillusionment Charm that my mum had taught me. Then I opened the windowm and carefully squeezed out, with my broom in one hand. Now, I don't usually have a problem with heights, but hanging from the window of a medieval stone tower is pretty terrifying, even when you're used to flying. So I was very relieved to get going on my broom.  
  
Everyone had always said I was a good flyer, and I would have tried out for the Ravenclawb quidditch team if I'd been at school as normal. I didn't suppose that I'd ever have a chance to get on the team now, even if I did go back to school soon. OK, so Danielle had accepted me, but that didn't mean anyone else would. I was out of practice at flying, but after a few minutes was back to normal, and ready for the long, long flight to London.  
  
I knew it was crazy to go back. It would be too much to expect to escape a third time, if I was caught again. But despite knowing this, I was convinced that these risks had to be taken, that it would be worth it if it worked.  
  
I flew all afternoon, but then reluctantly decided that I had to land and find somewhere to spend the night. I found a dilapidated house in the middle of nowhere, which had obviously been empty for some time, so I smashed a window and climbed in. It took me a while to go around and check that it was completely secure, but then I was ready, so I sat down on the bare, dusty floorboards to wait.  
  
The waiting was always the worst part. When you have nothing to do except to wait for the agonising pains that you know will follow soon, it's not easy to think about anything else. I knew this transformation would be particularly bad. The wolf had been chained since September by the Wolfsbane Potion, and it would try to make the most of its one night of freedom. July's transformation had been especially violent for this reason, which is probably why I had escaped and killed. I only hoped that wouldn't happen this time.  
  
It was a clear night, so I noticed the silvery light shining through a cracked windowpane. I shuddered, and tensed up, as I felt fur growing on my hands and face, then quickly spreading. I heard the cracking noises, and more painfully, felt them, as the bones in my legs broke, contorted and reformed. After that I don't remember anything.  
  
I am conscious for longer and longer as I get used to it. When I was younger, I passed out before the bones had begun to change, I only lasted until they started to break. I am afraid that one day I may feel everything, right up to the elongation of the skull. I hope this will never happen.  
  
In the morning I didn't really feel like doing anything, after that sleepless night, but I forced myself to move. I flew for most of the morning, then finally arrived in London. Once I had removed the Dissolusionment Charm, I went into the Leaky Cauldron, expecting gasps and screams when I was recognised, but there was none of that. A few people looked up when I entered the room, but not for long. I walked straight through the bar area, out to the bins at the back. Trying not to think, so that I wouldn't chicken out at the last moment, I tapped te bricks with my wand, and the gateway opened. 


	7. Chapter Seven, Elizabeth's POV

AN: Marz1, I know, it was very difficult! I needed Harriet's parents out of the way, so she could get on with escaping on her own and getting help from Remus. Those things came into my head before I thought about the parent situation. I tried to get her parents to seem more realistic, and did let her mum explain what she thought in chapter one, but then I forgot about them again. I think that's because of the books. I mean, Harry has no parents, and we don't hear much about Hermione's. She either doesn't tell them much, or they don't worry. But I couldn't make Harriet's parents be dead. Orphans are overdone, and then I have to think about complicated living arrangements. I suppose I'm just too lazy to think!  
  
Werewolf  
Chapter Seven  
Elizabeth's Point of View  
  
I was sure that I recognised her, as soon as she opened the door and stepped into the room. Her blue eyes with the long, black lashes seemed especially familiar. She squinted around the room, and then headed towards the reception desk. From the back, I realised what had confused me. Her hair was completely the wrong colour. It didn't go with her skin-tone, and it was so unnaturally blonde that it was virtually white, very different to my own darker, golden form of blonde.  
  
Of course, she wouldn't have hair like mine - nobody does. My hair was originally dark blonde, but now looks a kind of silvery-grey. I'm not old, that isn't the reason for it. I'm only sixteen. Or one-hundred-and- twenty-eight, I suppose, depending upon how you look at it. But anyway, ignoring such technicalities, I look sixteen, despite my silvery hair, which is also translucent, and hasn't grown for one-hundred-and-twelve years, or thereabouts. It could be less. Somebody once told me that the hair on a body keeps on growing long after they're dead and buried. Just thinking about that makes me shudder, and lift my icy translucent hand to my icy translucent neck. Although I've always been curious about everything, that's one thing I don't want to know. I don't like thinking about corpses, especially not my own.  
  
Where was I? Oh yes, the girl. She went up to the desk, and started talking to the receptionist, Mrs Skidmore. I didn't hear what she said, but when I glided over, they had barely begun their conversation.  
  
"I need to speak to the head of the Committee." The girl said calmly. "Please." She added, a kind of afterthought.  
  
"Is it really necessary?" asked Mrs Skidmore. Chances were, that in her eyes, anything less that an earthquake was not important. Basically, she wasn't interested in anything that anyone else could possibly have to say. I never spoke to her. In fact, I never spoke to anyone at that place. You could say I've just just been holding a grudge, for over a century, but I think that's fairly justified after what I've been through. I didn't want anything to do with the Committee, even though I had to 'live' there.  
  
"Yes." Replied the girl. "It's a matter of life or death." She paused for a moment, as if she wasn't sure what to say. Then she pulled an odd face, and said abruptly "It's about Harriet Rivers."  
  
Mrs Skidmore looked blank for a moment, then recognised the name. I knew whom the girl meant from the start. Harriet Rivers was a girl who had escaped from the Committee, that is to say, the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, last summer. I call her a girl, though most people wouldn't, because I understand her, and the situation that she's in, despite the fact that we've never spoken. I saw her briefly on the two occasions that she was here, and nearly went and talked to her the second time. I decided that it wasn't an ideal moment to talk, seeing as she she was sitting in the bottom of a cage, sobbing, at the time. I don't know what to do with people when they're crying, having never been the sensitive kind, myself. The last time I really cried must have been when I was sitting in a similar cage, crying for the same reason. One-hundred-and- twelve years is a long time, and all I remember clearly is thinking that nothing anyone could say to me would make me feel better. And that is the reason I left her alone.  
  
Maybe I should have spoken to her the first time, when she was confused and in shock. But then again, I couldn't have cheered her up, couldn't have told her it would be OK, when I am, and have always been, such a pessimist. I couldn't have given her any hope, when I knew exactly what was likely to happen to her and, having experienced it myself, knew that it was not pleasant. Oh, I'm sorry. I've done it again! I go off on the subject of death and corpses, and before you know it, I've been at it hours!  
  
So. This strange girl obviously had some information about Harriet. I assumed she knew where Harriet had been hiding, so had come to collect her reward. Or maybe I was just being pessimistic again.  
  
One bizarre thing was that apart from the colour of her hair, and the fact that she didn't wear glasses, this girl looked just like Harriet. I hoped she wasn't her cousin or anything. I had seen enough of families turning in their relations to the Committee, in my life. My grandfather worked for the Committee all his life. He signed all the necessary forms and was even a witness at my execution. I didn't want Harriet's family to be like mine.  
  
"Go on then.," said Mrs Skidmore. "It's the first door on the left." She pointed down a corridor.  
  
"Thank-you." The girl said quietly, then turned round, and started to walk in the direction the receptionist had indicated. Suddenly, I think that perhaps I went slightly insane. I swooped, yes, seriously swooped across the hall, and stood in front of her blocking her path an trying to look as solid as I possibly could, with no success.  
  
"Are you going to tell them where Harriet is?" I asked quickly. I knew I couldn't do anything to stop her if she said yes. I mean, I could try to convince her not to, but physically I was helpless. When I said this, the girl looked slightly hysterical, as if she was trying to stifle something between a giggle and a cry.  
  
"No." She was practically hyperventilating. "I'm trying to make the Committee change their minds about - her." I breathed an airless sigh of relief. I was certain that the Committee would never change their minds, but at least Harriet would be safe for the time being.  
  
"Who are you anyway?" I asked, my curiosity having got the better of me. "You remind me a bit of Harriet Rivers, you know. You aren't related are you?" She sort of jiggled up and down on her toes, biting her lip, hesitant. In the end, she decided that she trusted me, leant forwards, cupped her hands, and whispered into my ear.  
  
"I am Harriet."  
  
I had to stop myself shouting out, so instead I contented myself with a loud, angry whisper. "What?!" I gasped. "Why the hell have you come here?" She must be insane. I thought. "You could be caught and killed!" I realised that I had to stop shaking my head so violently, because I felt that under the circumstances it would not be very tactful to Harriet if my head fell off. The mental images that gave me were bad enough, and I was used to it!  
  
`"Anyway," I continued. "Surely life as a werewolf is better than death, though I don't transform now I'm a ghost."  
  
"Ghosts can't be werewolves?" she asked. Then she realised what I had just said. "Ohhh." She looked awkward. "You're. you were a werewolf!"  
  
"Yes, that's right." I replied. "Lycanthropy can only be cured by death. A silver bullet, silver knife, or silver axe." I closed my eyes for a second as I could feel them tinling as if I was going to cry. Harriet noticed these ghost-tears in my eyes. "It's OK." I told her, slipping into the modern language that I had adjusted to over time. "Don't worry, ghosts can't cry."  
  
"I'm going in there now." She said, with determination. "I don't want to hide anymore. I'm so tired of it. I just have to do something. Maybe they'll let me off, or maybe even end up changing the laws, to save other people like me." She strongly emphasised the word 'people'. "Besides, they don't know it's me, so even if I don't achieve anything, I'm still safe from them. I have to change this. I might fail , and then, yes, I know I will lose everything." She was trying to be brave about it, I could tell.  
  
We walked slowly, in silence towards the door to the Chairman's office. Harriet stopped abruptly, just a couple of metres from where we were heading. "I've got one question, if you don't mind me asking." I just nodded. She looked as if she felt I would be upset or embarrased by her question, but I couldn't think of anything relevant that I wouldn't be prepared to answer.  
  
"Did it hurt a lot?"  
  
I winced and shivered, although my 'body' temperature was always cooler than the air, thinking of the cold, yet burning sensation of that silver blade on the back of my bare neck. To a werewolf, silver causes more pain than even the Cruciatus Curse can. I suppose most werewolves are used to pain - I've heard the transformation is very painful. I wouldn't know.  
  
"Yes." I told her frankly. "More than you can imagine. Have you ever touched silver?" she nodded. "Well, it's much worse than that." I wanted to scare her so much that she would go back to wherever she had been hiding, and not take this risk. She certainly looked frightened when I told her this, but something also told me that it would not change her mind. I might as well comfort her a little, I decided. "It was over quickly though." I added.  
  
"Right." She trembled a little. "OK. Thank-you. er."  
  
"My name is Elizabeth."  
  
"Thanks then, Elizabeth. Bye." I was worried. Although I didn't really know Harriet, I didn't want her to go in there. "Don't worry, I'll be careful." She tried to reassure me. Then she turned and rapped clearly on the door three times with her fist.  
  
"Come in." announced a low voice that filled me with dread. Harriet opened the door, and then, slowly and cautiously entered the room. Before the door closed behind her, I followed. Afterall, I thought, They can't kill me twice!  
  
"Yes? What do you want?" asked the head of the Committee coldly, without even looking up. Then he lifted his head for a moment, and spotted me. "And you - werewolf ghost - get out of my office!" I was about to answer back, in a way that I would have never been allowed back when I was still alive. Then I decided that I shouldn't make him angry, because although he couldn't do anything to me, it could affect Harriet. So I moved to the far corner of the room, at the back, and amazingly he left it at that.  
  
"Well?" He asked Harriet, "What are you here for?"  
  
"I.. I wanted to. er. er. " She was obviously nervous, and had no idea what to say. Then she pulled a battered paperback book out of the deep pocket of her robes. "I wanted to find out if you'd ever read this."  
  
He read the book's title aloud. "'Hairy Snout, Human Heart'?" he sneered, then laughed nastily. "Surely you aren't serious about it! As if I would consider reading that." He looked at the book as if it was something particularly disgusting. "It was written by a werewolf, you know, a monster." He glanced in my direction as he said it, and I winced. The old insults still hurt.  
  
Harriet continued speaking. "But from this book, I don't think they are monsters. Surely if you're dealing with werewolves in your job, you should understand them. How can you have werewolves executed, when you haven't even read this?"  
  
"Why would you care about that?" Mr Counter asked incredulously. "Afterall, the more werewolves we destroy, the less there are in the world. So you're less likely to ever be attacked by one, thanks to us. Why on earth does it matter to you?"  
  
"It's because of that girl." She said slowly. "Harriet Rivers." All true so far! "I read in the Daily Prophet ages ago about her, and how if you find her, she'll be...ugh." Harriet was really pretty good at acting. I could have almost believed that she was an ordinary schoolgirl, sickened at the thought of a girl her age being. she searched around for a polite way to say it. "decapitated. I think that's just disgusting!"  
  
"You know absolutely nothing about the situation." He said firmly. "I tell you, that creature is a vicious killer. It must be dealt with!" he spat.  
  
"But she's a girl like me." protested Harriet. "Even if she is a werewolf as well. I'm sure she never meant to kill anybody, she just couldn't control herself." Harriet was also starting to lose control now. Funny, how I'd started to think of them as two separate people, the Harriet who was talking now, and the Harriet she was talking about. I could see that if she carried on at this rate, she might end up revealing who she was. Besides, it was about time I had my say, don't you think?  
  
"She's right." I said, feeling braver, and sort of more alive than I had done for a long time. "I was human. I never bit or killed anyone. For God's sake! I never even transformed - you had me killed within days of the Bite." This wasn't quite how I had imagined the grand confrontation would be, those past hundred years or so, but it felt brilliant. I saw Counter's mouth drop open. "Oh I know you weren't responsible, it was before your time. But you would if the Ministry allowed it. That's what you'd see as a perfect world, isn't it? Someone goes to St Mungo's with a strange bite, and as soon as they're diagnosed, they're taken here. The forms are dealt with, and the next day the poor person is headless. That's what you want!" I wasn't completely sure why I was going on about what had happened to me. It was far too late to change that, although I'd love to see them have to apologise. I changed the subject to Harriet.  
  
"And it's just as bad if you let Harriet Rivers be executed, even though she did kill someone, because she couldn't help it. She's probably going to feel guilty about it for the rest of her life, though she shouldn't because it's not her fault. It's the wolf's nature to prey upon humans, and a werewolf can't stop that. The guilt is surely punishment enough!" I was partly envious of Harriet, because she had escaped before, and they hadn't been able to do anything to her until she killed anyone, whereas I had been killed - murdered - for no reason. But despite my jealousy, I wanted her to have a chance, so she could sow that werewolves could be civilised human beings. "I can't believe you're still even allowed to do this! It seemed more acceptable a hundred years ago, because there was still capital punishment in Britain. But nowadays it can't be allowed!"  
  
"Oh, it's perfectly legal." He said, facing Harriet, making it quite obvious that he wasn't prepared to talk to me. "Werewolves aren't classified as beings, so the Ministry requires us to try them, and execute them if we decide that's necessary. In the last thirty years we have only failed to execute a werewolf we found guilty once, excluding the Harriet Rivers case. It will not happen again. I assure you we will find Harriet Rivers."  
  
Harriet looked as if she was about to start crying, and I probably would have done too, if I'd been able to, and if I hadn't grown used to over a century of that kind of treatment. I still hated it so much. Being called 'it', and regarded as just an object, or an animal, and now as a statistic, a murderous target to be met. I saw that there was no way we could change anything here, so I decided to take Harriet somewhere else I'd heard of, where they might be able to help.  
  
"Come on." I whispered to her. "It's a waste of time."  
  
"But -" she began to protest.  
  
"No. Don't worry, I've got a much better idea." I told her. "Oh, and by the way." I added as we walked out of the door "Even if you do consider werewolves to be beasts, I am not a werewolf. I am a ghost." 


	8. Chapter Eight, Harriet's POV

centerWerewolf  
  
Chapter Eight  
  
Harriet's POV/center  
  
BEING DIVISION - WEREWOLF SUPPORT SERVICES  
  
said the small sign I was staring up at.  
  
"So, do you think they can help me here?" I asked Elizabeth critically.  
  
"Well, I wouldn't know, would I?" she said edgily. "It didn't even exist when I was alive. And I wouldn't have had time to go and find it if it had done. They kept you at the Committee before execution in those days." I could see I had to be careful with Elizabeth - she could be really irritable. Of course, she had good cause. Even I couldn't believe how they'd treated her. "You're luckier than you think." She added, as if reading my mind. "Come on!"  
  
We went through the door beneath the sign, into a room which reminded me of an ordinary muggle doctor's surgery waiting room. It was filled with the usual ridiculously low chairs, with itchy, hairy covers, and a magazine rack full of the kind of magazines that no-one wants to read. We went past this area and straight through to the reception desk. Again everything was perfectly normal, until I was asked for my Werewolf Registry number, as well as just my name. I asked to be anonymous. I didn't want to reveal my identity until I could be sure that they wouldn't turn me in to the Committee at once. As no-one else was waiting, I was sent through immediately.  
  
I stepped into the office, which was occupied by a young woman in her early twenties, wearing a name badge with 'Natasha' printed on it. I was determinded to say exactly what I meant, but I knew I had to be careful.  
  
"What's your opinion on the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, and what they do to werewolves who've killed somebody?" I said quickly, without once pausing for breath.  
  
"Oh - it's iterrible/i!" she looked away sadly for a moment, like she was remembering something. I also saw her glance at the sharp, clear silver line around Elizabeth's neck. It looked like a scar, but we both knew it was deeper than that. I had done my best to avoid looking at it, since I met her. "I can't believe they can get away with it." Natasha continued. "They shouldn't. Of course anyone would be scared of a werewolf at the full moon, but it's obvious they're perfectly normal and human the rest of the time." She sounded really sincere, and I decided that I trusted her.  
  
"Sooo." I began. "If a werewolf who needed to, ah. avoid the Committee came to you, would you help them? Surely that would be breaking the law?"  
  
"Strictly speaking, yes it would, but there isn't one person in this department who wouldn't want to see the laws changed. Of course we'd help. I assume it's you then. What's your name?"  
  
"Registry number 873." I said bitterly, shocked to heat such hate in my own voice. I didn't mean it to sound like that, but then, why not? "Harriet Rivers." I finished, sounding slightly more cheerful.  
  
The woman gasped. "I didn't recognise you from that photo in the Prophet. You look so different! And I never expected you to come here!"  
  
"The photo was taken about a year ago. And I've dyed my hair." I was fully aware that I looked and sounded ridiculous. "As a disguise."  
  
"This isn't going to be easy, but I promise you we're going to help." She said determinedly. "You know, since that article in the paper last year, people don't exactly have a great impression of you. Did you see it?" I nodded. "Come on!" she said briskly, as she walked so fast that she was practically running, through the door into the next office. I followed, with Elizabeth smoothly gliding along behind me.  
  
Natasha started speaking hurriedly to the man in the office, who seemed just as surprised as she had been to find out who I was. I was also very excited.  
  
"This could be it 'Tash!" he exclaimed. "We've been trying to get noticed for yeas, and people just aren't interested. But a kid, a kid who's facing being killed! That could get some public sympathy."  
  
"Personally I'm more concerned about saving her life." Cut in Natasha. "That's the main thing."  
  
"Yeah, but what if we could get great publicity as well as doing that? And if the public know more about it, then we might be able to save others in the future as well. If they let this one go, we have another reason to make them let more go!" I wasn't too keen on this guy. Yes, did want to help me, but he was thinking of me as a werewolf, not an individual, just like the Committee did. Still, he seemed to be in charge there, and he did have a fairly good idea in the end, I'll admit. "My friend has his own show on the WWN and I know he'll agree to interview you on it." My jaw dropped. That was about the last thing I had expected. "The show's live, and it's tonight, so we'd better get a move on!"  
  
Three hours later, and I was sitting in a chair at the Wizarding Wireless Network, trying to sound and appear fairly calm. I had been discussing how I should act, with Natasha and Joel, who wasn't really that bad afterall. I was ready, really nervous, but determined to go through with it successfully.  
  
"You may have heard of Harriet Rivers, the thirteen year old werewolf on the run from the Committee for the Disposal of Creatures. She has managed to evade capture for the last ten months without a single sighting. Yet she is here with me tonight. We have decided that she deserves a chance to speak instead of sending her back to the Committee. Good evening Harriet."  
  
I gulped audibly. "Hi."  
  
"So, how long have you been a werewolf for now, Harriet?"  
  
"Six years." I said clearly. It felt really strange to be discussing my lycanthropy with a complete stranger, knowing that thousands of others might also be listening. I had only been able to discuss it with my parents before, because nobody else knew. "I was seven years old when I was bitten, on a camping holiday in Cornwall. The wolf that bit me ran away when I shone my torch into it's eyes, which is probably the only reason I survived."  
  
"It must have been hard for you as such a young child." He said. Too damned right. "So how did you cope?"  
  
"It wasn't easy." I replied. "I didn't understand what was going on, the very first time. And then of course there's the sheer pain. The transformation is always painful, but it seemed so much worse when I was seven. I suppose I had to grow up quickly." I added, thoughtfully. "Other kids aren't used to pain and prejudice of that extent. When I started at Hogwarts it became even more difficult to heep my secret, but I managed it somehow, for the whole of my first year."  
  
"OK Harriet, I'm going to have to move on now, and ask you some questions about recent events." I knew these questions would be harder to answer, but also that they were the most important. They were the reason I was going through with this whole crazy idea. "So did you not commit the crime you have been found guilty of?" he asked me. "I believe you have come to London in order to clear your name."  
  
I was very nervous about answering this. Although I knew I was going to tell the complete truth I doubted that my answer would go down too well with the general public who were listening. "No." I responded. "I am not trying to 'clear my name', because I amguilty. What I am trying to do is get the Committee to see that they're wrong, that their punishment is unfair. I shouldn't be treated like that, when it's not my fault."  
  
"Aha, and what is the punishment, Harriet?" I was puzzled, because we had all been talking about this earlier. I realised he was asking for the benefit of those who were listening. I coughed quietly, clearing my throat.  
  
"Death. By beheading."  
  
"Oh God!" he said, feigning shock. "So, do you remember anything about the night when it happened? How did you feel when you killed?" I didn't answer him at first, trying to think of how to put my thoughts into words. "It's OK. I understand if you don't want to answer that question, it must be quite traumatic."  
  
"No. I don't mind. You see, I honestly have no idea." I said firmly. "I was transformed, and so I wasn't at all conscious of what I was doing. It wasn't until later, when I changed back, that I even knew what I'd done. I was sick right away, from the blood and raw flesh in my mouth. I realised at once what had happened, and I felt ashamed and guilty. It never occurred to me that the Committee would want me dead, because I know they don't execute people anymore in Britain, and I assumed that applied to all humans, werewolves included."  
  
"You're saying that the werewolf part of you is completely separate from yourself, and that you don't even remember what you do at the full moon?"  
  
"Yes, exactly. If it hadn't been for the blood, I wouldn't have known." Hopefully I had made my point now. This was what I had to get across - it just wasn't my fault. If people could understand that, I had a fair chance.  
  
"But I suppose the Committee doesn't share that point of view?" my interviewer asked.  
  
"No." I knew I needed to be especially cautious at this point. I had to disguise my anger, so that I couldn't possibly give people the impression that werewolves were bad-tempered and hated people. "They don't understand werewolves at all, because they've never tried to. They think we're on the same level of hippogriffs and manticores, when of course there are huge differences." Yes, I admit, this next sentence I had prepared beforehand. "Understanding is the most important thing. If more people understood werewolves, then less of us would be needlessly killed. You see, I don't just want to save myself, I want to stop them killing others in the future."  
  
"And what have you been doing over the past ten months? Nobody's heard anything from you since you attacked your executioner at the Committee, and escaped in wolf form."  
  
"Well actually," I corrected him. "Someone has heard from me. I wrote to my best friend, and we've been in contact for months."  
  
"So did she mind about you being a werewolf? Has she accepted you, despite that?"  
  
"Yes." I replied, forcing a smile although there was no-one to see it. "I was terrified last year in case she found out, but now she knows, it's no big deal."  
  
"Where have you been hiding during this time?" he asked me.  
  
"I can't tell you that, I'm afraid. Just in case, you understand. But I didn't want to hide forever, which is why I've come back."  
  
"You're taking quite a risk by returning to London." He commented. "What will you do if you're captured again?"  
  
"Same as anyone without a death wish, of course!" I snapped. Trying to sound calm, I added more softly, "I'd try to escape."  
  
"And what if you can't escape?" he enquired casually. He really was infuriating!  
  
"I think that's fairly obvious." I answered dryly. "They're not exactly going to give me any choice in the matter are they?" I wished the idiot would stop reminding me of the things I was trying to shut out.  
  
"But how do you think you would react in that situation?" he persisted.  
  
Shut up, SHUT UP! I screamed inside my head. "I don't really know," I said patiently. "I'm trying not to think about that kind of thing. Probably just the same as I did last time, when I thought I wouldn't be able to escape. Sit on the floor of my cage and just cry."  
  
"Well, good luck Harriet. I hope you succeed in what you are trying to do. Goodbye. And listen next week for -"  
  
"No! No!" I jumped up, snatching his microphone. "I'm sorry, it's just that there are some important things I still need to say. I hope someone's listened to me, 'cause it's unusual for a werewolf to be listened to. And that's why I don't have much chance unless someone else helps. If you believe me, then please do something. Go to the Committee, and tell them what you think. They say I am an inhuman monster, but they are wrong! Please help me. Thank-you." One single tear dripped from my eye.  
  
The results were unbelievable! The next morning, a crowd of protestors had gathered outside the Committee building. I begged Natasha and Joel to let me go and see what was going on. I tried to convince them that we could stay out of the way, and just watch. In the end they were persuaded.  
  
Within an hour, we were outside the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures Headquarters, inside a magical shield. The shield looked like a giant bubble to those of us inside it, a clear dome, but no one else could see it, or us. I saw that most of the Committee members either weren't there, or were hiding inside the building. The only ones I saw were the executioner Macnair, and Counter, glaring out of a high up window.  
  
By the evening, the crowd was diminishing, and I was getting bored of sitting still all day. I had walked right into the Committee the day before, and it had been OK, so what was the harm in being in a crowd full of people who were trying to help me? And it was starting to get dark, so I was less likely to be noticed. I just walked straight through the wall of the shield, into the crowd.  
  
Unfortunately, by this point my hair must have returned to its natural colour. Hair dying charms don't last nearly as long as the conventional potions. "Look! It's Harriet Rivers!" Someone shouted, and then suddenly everyone was staring at me. I thought it would be OK. Those who didn't just look shocked were smiling, and the man nearest to me turned around and shook my hand. But then my shoulders were forcefully grabbed from behind, and I was being pushed through the crowd. A few people tried to help me, but my captor was too strong. As I was dragged onto the steps at the front of the building, Counter came out of the front door. It was obvious that Macnair was the one holding my arms down by my sides. Macnair, the executioner.  
  
Two thoughts came into my head as I stood on those steps, in front of that horrified crowd. The first was i'Oh shit! They've caught me! They've finally got me after everything I've tried to do.'/i while my more optimistic half was saying i'They can't do anything here. Not now in front of all these people. They can't.'/i  
  
Unfortunately, Counter and Macnair thought they could. I glanced around the crowd madly, as Counter spoke. "It is the decision of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, that the werewolf Harriet Rivers shall be executed on the 26th of May at" he glanced at his watch. "8.23 pm." I noticed Danielle at the front of the crowd, so pale, eyes wide. What was she doing here? How did she know? "To be carried out by the Committee's chairperson, Benjamin Counter." Elizabeth was standing next to her. "As witnessed below, Walden Macnair." He pulled a long knife out of his robes, and I could tell at once, maybe smell it in the air, that it was silver. He lifted it. I looked at the crowd desperately, silently begging someone to do something. They werepetrified, some crying, some just standing completely still, eyes fixed on the knife, in shock. They didn't move an inch. So I knew there was no hope. I was going to die.  
  
But then Elizabeth moved. She gave Danielle a huge shove, which didn't move her, as Elizabeth's arms passed right through, but it shocked her into action. She stumbled up the stairs and knocked into Counter. The frail, old, cruel, evil man fell over sideways, but in the process, the knife in his hand slashed across my fingers. I looked at my hand, seeing the thin line or red blood welling up starting half way up my little finger, and going diagonally across the next two. I was terrified. The cut wasn't deep, but I knew the effect that silver has upon werewolf flesh, once it penetrates the skin. Horrified, yet fascinated, I watched, as everything within half an inchof the cut burned away, severing three of my fingertips. I even heard them hit the ground with a soft thud. The crowd started to talk again. I took the opportunity to run, but the pain in my hand was unbearable. I had only gone a few metres, when I passed out.  
  
What happened from then on was told to me by Danielle, a few hours later when I had woken up. Mediwizards were fetched for me and Counter, who was unconscious. The crowd managed to keep Macnair back and get hold of the knife before he did, now they were out of their trance-like state. I was taken to St Mungo's, where I woke up later.  
  
When I awoke, my fingers weren't bleeding anymore. The stumps had magically healed, and hardly hurt at all. Magic still surprises you from time to time, even when you've grown up with it. Danielle talked to me, and filled me in on what had happened, when she was finally allowed in. My parents, apparently, were on their way.  
  
They arrived at about 2 in the morning, and as I didn't need to stay in bed, they were allowed to take me home. We went out to the car, which was parked on the road, as St Mungo's doesn't have a car park, and drove home. It was so long since I had seen them, but I couldn't think of anything to say. They fussed over my fingers, even though I told them that they weren't hurting any more. They told me how proud of me they were, and how brave I had been. They were talking to me as if I was a five year old.  
  
When we got home, I went to bed at once, and slept all morning. In the afternoon I talked to my parents, which was OK seeing as we had something to talk about. They had been told by the Ministry that I was safe from the Committee for the time being. Because of the protest, and the way Counter had attacked me, they decided that it wouldn't be wise to let them execute me - it would cause bad public feeling towards them. I was reminded that it didn't mean I was off the hook completely, they were just trying to make their minds up.  
  
I was sent schoolwork, so that I could catch up on what I had missed, which was a lot. It was difficult, and there was a lot of it, but it reassured me. Dumbledore at least thought I'd be able to come to school next year. Needless to say, the workload from Snape's potions class was the biggest, and I doubt his precious Slytherins ever got that much work in a year! I spent most of my time consumed in a whole year's work, which I didn't mind. At least I spent less time with my parents, in awkward silence in the living room. The only thing we ever had to discuss was the return of Voldemort, which had now been confirmed by the Ministry, who had denied it for the past year.  
  
One day, completely unexpectedly, mum opened the door to Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic.  
  
"Harriet!" she yelled up the stairs, and I came down slowly, wondering what she was going to say. I was totally shocked to see Fudge standing in the hallway.  
  
"Er. Goodmorning." I said, uncertain as to what I ought to say to him.  
  
"Ahem. I have come to inform you that we have made a decision, at the Ministry. It isn't official yet, we are going to announce it to the Daily Prophet tomorrow, but my colleagues and I thought you should be one of the first to know." Yes? What have you decided? I thought, impatiently. "Werewolves are no longer to be classed as beasts, so the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures has no power over you. It has also been accepted after much debate, that werewolves are not to be held responsible for their actions at the full moon."  
  
iYes!/i I grinned broadly. iIt worked! /iI was finally free. It had taken a whole year for me to be free from this, as one year previously I had still been awaiting trial. I doubt that I'll ever stop feeling slightly guilty from time to time about it.  
  
I was barely hearing anything the Minister was saying, but I think it was something about the Werewolf Registry being responsible for ensuring that all registered werewolves had a secure place to transform. "And you'll be able to go back to Hogwarts in September. I believe you have been doing extra work to catch up?" I nodded. "In that case, I would assume that you'll be capable of proceeding into the third year with your friends." I just stood their, grinning like an idiot, most of the time until he left. 


	9. Chapter Nine, Harriet's POV

AN: This is the last real chapter. I'm writing a short epilogue, but I really don't know what I'm doing with that yet! Thanks a lot for your reviews.  
  
Werewolf - Part 9 - Harriet's POV  
  
On the first of September, I went up to Scotland early, with my mum, so I didn't have to go on the train with all the others, and so that we could have a meeting with Dumbledore. The meeting was fairly brief; Dumbledore just told me that if I had problems with any individuals to go to him, and said he was sure I'd have no problems with the work.  
  
I was the first person to arrive in the Great Hall for the Sorting, andstart of term feast. I looked at my watch, and saw that the others should be arriving shortly. I sat down in what had been my usual seat at the Ravenclaw table, though I hadn't been there for a year, and someone else had probably claimed it. Dumbledore arrived at the teacher's table, and was shortly joined by Snape, McGonagall, Flitwick, and most of the other teachers. Then the students came rushing in through the large doors which lead to the entrance hall. Danielle waved enthusiastically, and ran over to sit next to me. As other Ravenclaws arrived at the table, they noticed me, and started frowning and whispering amongst themselves. Orla Quirke's eyes almost burst out of their sockets when she saw that I was back, but I didn't return her glare. I saw people further along the table, and even in other houses, pointing at me and muttering. It felt like all the blood in my body rushed to my face. Then McGonagall walked in, followed by a long line of nervous first years, which took the attention away from me for a moment.  
  
"I bet Dumbledore's going to make a speech about you." Muttered Danielle from behind her hand. No. Please no. I begged. The last thing I wanted was more attention. I looked desperately along the teacher's table, and to my surprise, saw Remus there. Was he the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher? I knew that werewolf-phobic Umbitch woman had been kicked out, but hadn't heard what was happening about a replacement.  
  
After the Sorting, and various announcements, regarding obvious things such as forbidden items, (anything made by Fred and George Weasley had been added to the list, I noticed), and also regarding the return of Voldemort. I thought that maybe the announcements had finished, and I was safe, when Dumbledore cleared his throat again.  
  
"I expect that some of you have noticed a young witch at the Ravenclaw table, who has been missing for quite some time. Indeed, there was one time when I sadly thought she would never be able to return to Hogwarts. I suspect that most of you are aware of what has happened to Harriet Rivers over the past year, but I will explain, for those of you who aren't. Harriet is a werewolf," gasps from some of the first years, who were obviously muggle-born and didn't even know werewolves existed. One of the loudest gasps came from a small boy sitting next to me, who edged away when someone told him that it was me. "Last summer holidays, at the full moon, she killed someone, by accident." The first year shuffled further along the bench. "The Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures intended to execute her for this crime which was not her fault." Dumbledore continued, in his calm casual manner, which often caused people to wonder whether he was serious or not. "It was almost entirely through her own efforts that Harriet was released from the death sentence upon her, and for that we are all very proud of her. Some of you may have heard it said that werewolves are monsters, that they cannot feel anything except the desire to kill. I hope that Harriet has proved that wrong. Not only did she save her own life; she managed to change the status of her kind, so that now the Committee cannot kill them.  
  
I hope that all of you would show as much bravery as Harriet has done to survive this last year, and as her friend Danielle has done, helping her. As you will all know, Voldemort returned last year, and there have been a number of attacks over the summer period. In this time, it is very important that we all have friends like Danielle, who we can trust with our lives." Now Danielle was turning red, while to my left, the first year was asking, "What's Voldemort?"  
  
At the end of the speech, there was a small amount of applause, mostly from the front right-hand table, Gryffindor. After dinner, and a loud rendition of the school song, everyone went upstairs to their common rooms. I went straight up to the dormitory and began to unpack my stuff. I was shoving clothes into the cupboard, and slamming drawers violently. I even pinned up a lunar chart with days ticked off, above the chest of drawers.  
  
"Might as well put that up now." I muttered angrily, as I practically hammered the pins into the wall with my fist, tears stinging my eyes. "Everyone knows now. There's no use hiding it."  
  
"It'll be alright Harriet." I jumped and spun my head round quickly. It was Danielle. I hadn't even noticed her coming into the room.  
  
I sat down on the bed and groaned. "How do you know? They might all hate me." I was convinced that virtually everyone in the world was against me. Talk about paranoia! Danielle told me not to worry, but I couldn't help thinking that I'd been right, later on when the three other Ravenclaw 3rd years came in.  
  
The three girls were Orla, her friend Aurore, and Chenaiyi. Orla came over to Chenaiyi's bed and started whispering to her. The only word I heard was 'change' and I was convinced they were talking about me, and the transformation. Then Chenaiyi and Orla swapped beds, taking their suitcases with them. Now Orla was at the far end of the room, as far away from me as possible, then Aurore next to her, Chenaiyi in the middle of the room, me, then Danielle. Now I understood what they had been talking about. Orla wanted to change places, because she didn't want to be near me. Still, Chenaiyi hadn't minded having to move next to me, so maybe she would be OK. I didn't really know her, but I had no reason to dislike her so far.  
  
"Night Aurore," Orla said, drawing the curtains on her bed. "Night you two," I knew she meant Chenaiyi and Danielle. "Night werewolf." I managed to resist the urge to go over there and slap her. Instead I pulled the covers up around my head, and tried to sleep.  
  
The following morning, on the way to breakfast, I was caught up in the usual crowds at the entrance to the Great Hall. With a couple of hundred people all trying to get through the door at the same time, even such a huge doorway became blocked. A prefect took control, and made everybody stop, so he could let people through a few at a time. While we were waiting, someone tapped me on the shoulder, and I turned around, but I couldn't see who it was, and there was no-one I knew there. I turned back to face the front, still feeling people pushing to get past. Maybe whoever it was had just caught my shoulder by accident. Then, when I had almost reached the doorway, I felt the tap on my shoulder again, and once more, I spun round, to see nobody. While I was looking around behind me, someone on my left nudged me, and a voice from the right muttered  
  
"Get a move on, werewolf! You're blocking the doorway." I had been too busy looking behind me to notice that there was room to get through now. I practically ran to the Ravenclaw table, tears stinging in my eyes. If this is what it's going to be like at Hogwarts, I might as well give up now. I thought. But I was stubborn, and determined to make the most of this second chance I had earned  
  
During breakfast, I could see people staring at me, all around the hall. At the Slytherin table, they were mostly glaring at me, eyes narrowed, the Hufflepuff's were staring curiously and whispering to each other, and most Ravenclaws were pretending to ignore me, but glancing up whenever they thought I wouldn't notice. I couldn't see the Gryffindor table very well from where I was sitting, but less of them seemed to be looking. Gryffindors are known for being more open-minded, and less prejudiced than most of the other houses, in fact the Sorting Hat nearly placed me there, for that reason amongst others. The others in my house were irritating me the most. They were being so hypocritical the way they pretended I wasn't there, but then kept looking up.  
  
I felt like screaming at them all. "I'm a person, for God's sake! A being, just like you." I hated it so much. I'd earned that status, hadn't I? "So why are you all looking at me like I'm a freak? I'm not going to do anything!"  
  
And I wasn't. I wasn't intending to do anything, nor was I really thinking of shouting that. I knew I had to stay calm. I had learned that people blamed werewolves for anything, they looked for excuses to hate us. If I lost my temper, someone would say that it was just because I was a werewolf. I ate my breakfast quickly, rarely joining in conversation with Danielle, who was (none too subtly) attempting to get the others to speak to me. Orla would never listen to either of us, obviously, and I doubted that Aurore would either. I thought that perhaps eventually Chenaiyi would get used to it, but I didn't know anything about her.  
  
The first lesson after breakfast was Defence Against the Dark Arts, with Remus. Professor Lupin, I reminded myself. I noticed that he was looking nervous, and also quite tired, I assumed from the full moon a few days before. I hoped I didn't look that bad! He hesitated before speaking. "Today we will be studying werewolves." He stated calmly. Then I knew why he had looked so nervous. Everyone in the room turned and looked at me, even Danielle, when he said it. 'Sorry!" he mouthed at me, wincing. Then he attempted to carry on with the lesson normally. "Does anyone already know anything at all about werewolves? Tell me some facts."  
  
Orla raised her hand, and Remus nodded at her. She smirked, and began to speak slowly and with relish, directing every word towards me. "It has a Ministry of Magic classification of XXXXX." She paused, trying to remember the exact quotation. "Meaning, 'Known wizard killer, impossible to train or domesticate.'" Again, practically everyone turned and stared at me, with expressions of shock and fear on their faces. I couldn't understand it, I mean, everyone had a copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, and surely they'd read it, so they must have known it already. I could never forget that rating. I was a 'wizard killer, impossible to train or domesticate.' I hated it. I hoped the book would be changed in more recent copies, and wouldn't include werewolves, seeing as werewolves are no longer classed as beasts.  
  
"Yes, that is correct, Orla." He replied, although he was looking less than happy with her answer. "However, you forgot to mention that this rating only applies to the wolf - that is, the animal that the cursed human becomes, one night a month." Once again, people glanced at me, this time looking unsure. Orla let out an odd laugh, which sounded rather like a pig snorting.  
  
"But I've seen loads of reports of werewolves attacking people, even when they were in human form. They're still dangerous and vicious.  
  
"Oh, and I suppose you've never heard of a normal human attacking or even murdering anyone." Contradicted Remus, sharply. Orla had nothing to say to that, so she just turned around and glared at me. It was totally unfair. Why was she angry with me, because she'd lost an argument with Rem - Professor Lupin. It wasn't my fault! And of course, this pause gave the rest of the class yet another chance to stare at me.  
  
"Excuse me." said Professor Lupin, quietly, but firmly. "Could you please all stop staring at Harriet? I know she's been away for a year, but you saw her yesterday, and this morning, not to mention all the other times you've looked at her this lesson. I very much doubt that she's changed since you last saw her about 30 seconds ago!"  
  
One of the boys, Stewart Ackerly, thought of an excuse. A pretty stupid one I have to say, but what do you expect from a thirteen-year-old boy? "In first year, Moody brought things in as demonstrations. Last year we didn't learn anything, so it didn't count. You ought to bring in things for us to look at! You didn't bring in a werewolf, but there's one here anyway, so I thought it could be useful to look, you know, for reference!"  
  
"Harriet is in human form at the moment, and looks no different to how she would if she had never been bitten. I'm sure she doesn't want you lot staring at her."  
  
"But -" Stewart was about to make another supposedly 'smart' comment, but Remus cut him off.  
  
"If you insist on staring at a werewolf, even though it's not the full moon, then could you please stare at me!" He closed his eyes tightly, then looked down. I could almost tell what he was thinking. There. I've said it. The whole class gasped, including me, though I was shocked for a different reason. Why did he tell them? "At least that way you'll be paying attention." He continued, calmly and determinedly. Everyone was still gaping, with their mouths wide open, but Remus ignored them, and carried on with his lesson.  
  
"So, does anyone know any other facts about werewolves?" A few people were a bit calmer now, and Danielle and Chenaiyi put their hands up. Chenaiyi's arm was shaking slightly. When Remus chose Chenaiyi to answer the question, Danielle kept her hand up, waiting to give her answer once Chenaiyi had spoken.  
  
"Silver kills them." Danielle lowered her hand, having obviously been about to say something similar.  
  
"Yes Chenaiyi, that's right." Remus nodded. "But can anyone else explain it in more detail?"  
  
I had realised that if I never spoke, then people wouldn't get to know me, and accept me for who I was. I couldn't hide in the classroom, talking to no one but Danielle for the rest of my five years at Hogwarts. It didn't work, for one thing. It wouldn't make people understand me. So two people put up their hands to answer that question, Danielle and me.  
  
Remus looked surprised at my volunteering, but very pleased, so he chose me. "Harriet?" he smiled encouragingly.  
  
"Touching silver causes severe burns and blistering." I said quietly, looking down at the table. I didn't need to raise my voice like people usually had to if they wanted to be heard in lessons. Everyone's attention was focused on me. "And if it penetrates the skin, it burns away the surrounding flesh. It kills if it burns any vital organs, or if it causes a lot of blood loss. Also, if it stays in the body for a long time, it can poison us." I'd had difficulty deciding on that last word. I could have just said 'them' or 'werewolves', and completely disassociated myself, instead of acknowledging what I was. Now that I'd done that, I might as well carry on that way. I put both of my hands on the desk in front of me, palms up. "This burn mark is where I tried to pick up a silver goblet, a couple of months ago." I turned over my left hand, with the three missing fingertips, and held that out. "And here, I was cut with a shallow knife. It was only a shallow cut, just a scratch really." I shivered, though the classroom was quite warm. "You can't imagine how much it hurts, just to touch silver." I told them.  
  
Everyone was staring at me again, but this time I didn't really mind. They weren't staring at me just because I was there, and because of what I was. They were curious about what I had said, that was all. They looked surprised too, they hadn't expected me to speak. It was only Orla who looked as if she really hated me, though quite a few didn't look at all sure whether they should be listening to me, a werewolf, or not. Some were afraid of me, I was certain, but at least they didn't hate me.  
  
The rest of the lesson was mostly spent researching in the textbook, with Remus going round checking people's work. I could hear quiet chatter coming from most desks in the room, but people were clearly doing their work as well. I didn't pay all that much attention to the textbook for the rest of the lesson. Afterall, how much could it teach me? I'd spent twenty- four hours a day, since I was seven years old, learning what it's like to be a werewolf, and I knew the obvious information as well. Remus came over to my desk, and crouched down next to it, to talk to me.  
  
"I'm sorry about the lesson." He said, apologetically. "I'd forgotten that you'd be in the class, when I planned the lesson, and I wanted to get the lesson on werewolves over and done with at the start of term. Still, in the end I think it's been OK. They got a slightly different lesson to what I'd planned, but it worked. Are you alright with it?"  
  
"Yeah, I don't mind. I'm fine now, though I was really horrified when you first said what we'd be studying today." I said, with a forced smile.  
  
"I really don't like teaching about werewolves." He admitted, with a shrug. "I usually talk about werewolves in generall of course, but I still feel like it's personal. Makes me wonder how the other creatures I teach about feel!"  
  
"Why did you tell them?" I asked him, perplexed. They respected him, I thought and he threw that away.  
  
"I'm sure they'd have heard rumours about me sooner or later, from the older students. It was probably better for them to hear it from me, though I didn't intend it. I told you I'd taught here three years ago, well Professor Snape told everyone about it, when I left." He smiled at me. "I don't think I'd have dared to, if you hadn't changed everything." I sighed.  
  
"I didn't change everything. I got them to change the law, but it doesn't change how people think. I don't think that's ever going to happen."  
  
"It will." He assured me. "You saw how people reacted earlier in the lesson. It was changing all the time. I'm sure some of them won't have any problems with you soon. Not everyone hates us, Harriet. I used to think that, before I found friends who accepted me."  
  
After the lessons, as me and Danielle were walking down the corridor on the way to Herbology, a couple of lads joined us, asking me stupid questions about being a werewolf. They left soon enough when I showed them my hands up close, and in fact, they both turned quite pale. Boys are so pathetic! But really, I didn't mind them being there. Yes, they were immature, not to mention tactless, but they weren't deliberately being unkind, they just seemed curious.  
  
We passed a bunch of Gryffindor fifth years in the corridor - Harry Potter and his friends. They all looked miserable still, and I knew it must be because of Sirius Black's death. It hadn't been publicised, because everyone still thought he was a criminal, but Remus had told me in a letter, over the holidays. He had been killed in a battle with some of Voldemort's Death Eaters, at the Ministry of Magic. When they spotted me, they cheered up slightly.  
  
"Hi Harriet. Well done." Said Harry, smiling warmly.  
  
"Maybe I should organise a protest for the S-P-E-W." Mused Hermione Granger. Some people say that she's Harry's girlfriend, but I don't think she is.  
  
"Spew?" I queried, puzzled.  
  
"Don't even ask." Advised Ron, before they disappeared round a bend in the corridor.  
  
Chenaiyi sat with us in the Potions class, and although she was shy, and quite awkward around me, after a bit we were all getting along OK. I was proved right sooner than I'd expected about her getting used to the idea. Naturally, Snape was his usual delightful self, (note sarcasm), throughout our Potions lesson. Despite this, and comments from the Slytherins who shared our class, I coped. I felt a bit better after the Defence Against the Dark Arts class, and so managed to ignore the others. Things weren't going to change completely or straight away, but they were getting better, I could see that. By tea time I was in a good mood, and even managed to be reasonably polite to Orla. That is, I asked her to pass the salt, without glaring too much.  
  
I was feeling reasonably contented about everything, by the time I climbed into my four poster that night. Some people would always have a problem with what I was, but I was determined not to let them bother me. 


	10. Epilogue

Epilogue  
  
"Werewolf classification laws were altered in the summer of 1996." Drones Professor Binns, in his usual unenthusiastic tone. "Prior to that, werewolves were classed as beasts, and could be executed if they attacked somebody. In 1996, they were finally recognised as beings, and so were permitted to live and work amongst normal humans."  
  
On the back row of the classroom, a fourteen year old boy smiles. Professor Binns carries on talking about the developments in werewolf rights, over the past centuries. He talks about how over a hundred years before, werewolves could be executed just for being a werewolf. Alex's friend Thomas looks round at him, shocked to hear that this was once allowed, butAlex already knows it. He doesn't let it bother him any more. Afterall, it couldn't happen in the present. He knows all about what had happened in 1996 as well, having met the person responsible for the changes.  
  
Harriet Rivers is now twenty-one, and works at the Werewolf Support Services. He had met her there last year, when he had first been bitten. As he was a Hogwarts student, his parents were concerned about his going back, but Harriet had reassured them, and she was right. Everything had been OK. She had also asked him what he was going to do about his friends. Would he tell them, or would he try to hide his new lycanthropy, for as long as possible?  
  
"There are two ways to go about things." She had told him. "You either try to be like everyone else, just to fit in, or you can be as different as you like, and people will have to accept in the end that that's just what you're like, and there's nothing they can do about it." He had told his friends, when he got back to school after the Easter holidays. He'd decided that it was better to tell them, as if it was nothing out of the ordinary. Otherwise they might work it out by themselves, anyway. They had just been talking about what they'd done during the holidays, how many Easter eggs they had eaten and so on, when he had said quietly,  
  
"Last week I was bitten by a werewolf."  
  
His friends all reacted very differently. Thomas frowned, as if to say 'Are you crazy?' His expression was a mixture of disbelief, and curiosity. Samuel had paled, and narrowed his eyebrows, afraid, and Jake had laughed, replying  
  
"Yeah, and I was bitten by a vampire."  
  
There was an awkward silence, as Alex stared at the floor. He had been so nervous about telling them, and they didn't even believe it.  
  
"You're not serious?" asked Jake incredulously. Alex's expression showed that he was deadly serious. "So, you mean that you are a werewolf?" Alex nodded.  
  
"Bloody hell!" Exclaimed Thomas. He was muggle-born, and so the idea that his friend was a werewolf was even more astonishing than it was for the others. Things had changed for werewolves in the wizarding world, but muggle legends and horror films had not altered at all.  
  
Samuel had been the most shocked. It hadn't been so many years, afterall, since werewolves were classed as beasts, and that was the impression he had always been given of them. It took weeks before he had really spoken to Alex again, and even now, Alex wasn't at all sure that Sam trusted him.  
  
Alex wrote to Harriet regularly, to tell her how things were going. It was much easier to talk to her than to any of the other people he knew, because she was young, and she understood what was happening to him. She wrote back occasionally, and talked about her years at Hogwarts, and the year she spent on the run from the Committee.  
  
Reading his account of life as a 3rd year Hogwarts student, Harriet was surprised at how much things had changed, in just eight years. She had been in the 3rd year when she returned to Hogwarts, and it had been very different to what he described. It hadn't been too bad, but it could have been a lot better. She found it hard to believe that things had become so much easier for werewolves in so short a space of time.  
  
And things hadn't just changed for werewolves. Six years ago, Harry Potter had defeated Lord Voldemort, and died in the process. Many hundreds of wizards had been killed in the Second war, including several people from Harriet's own school year, although they had only been at the end of their 4th year. Also, Remus had died in one of the many battles during Harriet's 3rd year, followed by Ron Weasley the following year. Harriet had missed Remus terribly, but was completely over it now. He had been the first person to really understand her situation, but now, working at the Werewolf Support Services, she was constantly meeting other people who had the same problems she had faced. Professor Snape had also died, fairly early on in the war, and Harriet still found it hard to accept that he had been on their side. She had hated him, as he had hated her, but obviously he had not been all that bad.  
  
Thinking about the changes that had taken place made Harriet feel good. Although she would never take all the credit she deserved, she was pleased to be able to see how she had helped. Alex was just one example of how a young werewolf's life now was just so much more normal than hers had been at that age, and she had helped to achieve that. 


End file.
